“the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Nightingale and the Rose (Original 1888 Edition): Annotated
机器翻译,仅供参考:
”夜莺飞向玫瑰树,用胸脯抵住刺。她整夜用胸脯顶着荆棘歌唱,冰冷的水晶月亮俯身倾听。她唱了一整晚,刺在她的胸口越来越深,她的鲜血从她身上消失了。”